


Ain't no turning back

by orangetrees



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magic AU, Not slow burn in the slightest, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangetrees/pseuds/orangetrees
Summary: Every once in a while, a person with magical abilities is born. Most of them end up in the river or homeless, but some, such as John,  are blessed with loving parents, who send them away to live with others of their sort.





	1. Arrival

The rain smattered against his already soaked coat. Aggressive and steady, like bullets from a machine gun. Or John’s neverending doubts about the place he was headed. How had he even gotten himself into this? Oh, of course, he had been born. That was the simple and yet frustrating answer. He sighed, and moved his soaked hair behind his ear so the wind couldn’t blow it into his mouth again. He sensed the ferryman behind him before he could make himself known in any other way. John turned.  
-What are you doing out here? You’ll get cold. I told you, you won’t be able to see the house until we’ve docked. The ferryman had a rough voice and a strong accent John couldn’t discern the origin of, with rolling r’s and singing vowels.  
-But I will be able to sense it, John tried. The old man sighed.  
-No. Besides, if you could, you’d be able to do that from inside.   
John reluctantly headed towards the door and ducked inside after the other man. They sat in the small hut for some minutes in comfortable silence. Well, John thought dismally, as comfortable as it gets when you’ve been banished from your home to live on a remote island in the middle of nowhere by your own parents and constant anxiety is coursing through your veins.  
-Ten minutes, the ferryman spoke up.  
John startled awake from his miserable daydreams.  
-Oh, uh thanks.   
He glanced out the window. Waves high as people dove and resurfaced outside and the thick, gray clouds cried, though strangely enough, there was no thunder. Ten minutes. Ten minutes or less and then he wouldn’t have the safety of the boat or the old man to protect him from whatever lay beyond the stormy ocean. His stomach churned with anxiety. It’s fine, it’s fine, he told himself. Would his father and mother really send him to people who would hurt him? No, this had to be the safer option. Though at the moment, he thought, he would rather live shunned and hated in London than here, completely isolated from the world. It wasn’t true of course, but right now, he really wanted to go home. Just take his bags and swim for hours, days on end to get home, to his room with the posters and soft linen sheets and- John gasped as he felt the unmistakable sensation of there being something in front of them. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, he could’ve sworn it, but now there it was. He focused, trying to feel what it was. An island, rocky and crescent shaped, with a house at the top. He could also feel the presence of at least five people, which sent an uncomfortable jab of nervousness to his chest. The boat started to slow and then he felt the thunk of the ferryman docking it.   
-Here we are. John stood up on shaky legs and grabbed his bags, slinging his guitar case over one shoulder. He muttered a weak “thank you” to the ferryman and then he was on dry land again. Or rather, wet land. John sighed yet again as he watched the small ferry take off in the distance. Well, there was only one thing to do, wasn’t there? He looked up towards the house sat at the top of the hill and began the march upwards. The grass had grown long and there was no path to be seen. The wet grass caught on John’s legs and bags and made the already daunting journey longer by almost a quarter of an hour. When John finally arrived at the top of the hill, both he and possibly the things in his bags as well were soaked to the core, though he had sealed the bags with wax. He only stopped walking when he got to the small roof over the stairs. He put down his bags on the tiled platform outside the door, and decided to take some time to have a look at the house, to further delay having to enter it. The house was, as far as he could tell through the rain, three stories high and painted a light grey-tinted blue, with high windows sectioned off into sixteen smaller panes each, in an almost parisian fashion. One of them was slightly ajar. The frames were painted a, maybe, off-white to match the corners of the house and pillars of the small protection against the weather, that had somehow gotten worse, he was standing under. John took a deep breath, steadying himself. He rang the doorbell.  
-Fred! Get the door, will you? came a voice through the open window to John’s left. After a moment came a muffled reply from what seemed to be quite far away. A few more moments and John heard a soft thud and then he had no more time to prepare himself for the door had swung open to reveal a man with black hair and a red silk shirt. His dark eyes widened and sparkled with curiosity at the sight of John.  
-Mary didn’t tell me we’d have anyone coming over. That’s curious, he said.  
His voice was soft and gentle and John felt his shoulders relax slightly at the warm embrace of a presence in front of him.  
-Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? he reached out his hand towards John, who took it.  
-Freddie Mercury.  
-John Deacon.  
-Pleasure to meet you, dear.  
Freddie held his hand for just a moment longer than what was to be expected, seeming to search for something. He apparently found it and his eyes lit up.  
-You play guitar? Oh, his callouses.  
-Um, uh yeah, yeah I do. Smooth.  
-You’ll fit right in then! Freddie gave him a warm smile, lips pressed together. John smiled back at him, feeling it wasn’t forced.  
-Do come in, darling, it’s freezing. Freddie said, stepping aside to allow John in. John followed him gratefully. Noticing his host wasn’t wearing any shoes, and that there was a pile of shoes by the doormat in the entryway, John put his bags down again and got to removing his rubber boots. They were high and uncomfortable, but his father had insisted, which he was glad for now. He placed the boots by the wall and noticed with satisfaction that his socks were dry. Freddie smiled at him.  
-Sorry about the shoe pile, it seems it’s just you, me and Brian who know anything about order. He gestured to four pairs of boots and a pair of clogs lined up neatly on the tiled floor. John snorted a laugh.  
-Should I take your bags?  
-You really don’t have to.   
-Alright, Freddie said and took everything John had brought with him, except his guitar case, which was still on his back.   
-Come along dear! and with that he entered the main part of the building, John following close behind. He was slightly confused. He had expected some sort of regular residential house, but this looked more like-  
-It used to be a hotel, Freddie explained, hooking a finger through the loop of a keychain lying on the lobby desk.  
-Then Miami got a hold of it and turned it into a safe haven for people like us. That’s why it rains this much, he uses it to keep the island hidden, sorry about that. He smiled apologetically.  
-’S alright as long as my bass and amp are okay.  
-Tim could probably fix that, don’t worry. I’m more worried about you. John felt his cheeks heat up at the concern.  
-Oh, uh thanks.  
-I’ll show you to your room now if that’s alright, darling? j  
-That’d be great. Thanks.   
Freddie almost bounced up the stairs, making as much noise as if he’d been tip-toeing. The stairs were of a dark, polished wood and were surprisingly not carpeted. John followed. As they got to the second floor Freddie flicked a switch with his elbow and the hallway was illuminated in a yellow light that made the flowery wallpaper that John guessed was usually blue seem almost green. They continued down the corridor and turned left towards yet another staircase in the same wood as the other stairs and the floors below. They passed a window at the foot of the stairs and John’s curiosity got the better of him. He looked out. The wind had subsided slightly but the rain had done the opposite, pattering against the window in a never ending flow. But what caught his eye wasn’t the rain; it was the cliffs on which crooked trees, harrowed by years and years of storm and sea, stood firmly planted. It was the white sand where land and sea met and how it was all so beautiful.  
-Quite lovely, isn’t it? John’s heart leapt into his throat; he hadn’t noticed Freddie walking back down the stairs.  
-Yeah, he said, turning his head to look at the man standing beside him. They were so close, John could see every single one of Freddie’s long eyelashes when he blinked out towards the view below. He caught the scent of ocean that probably never left anyone who lived here, but also a mix of flowers and herbs. Freddie turned too and god his eyes were intense. John drew in a shaky breath. He’d never been one for eye contact but he found he quite liked it with Freddie.  
-Shall we go?  
-Uh, yes... yes.

302\. This was where he would live for god knows how long. Freddie unlocked the door with lythe, practiced fingers.  
-There you are! he said, picking up John’s bags again. John entered the room and stopped in the middle, in awe. He had gotten a room in the corner and therefore two windows, one overlooking the dock at which he’d arrived. There was a writing desk in dark wood with brass knobs adorning the many drawers, some of which had keys. Opposite the desk was a queen sized bed that looked very comfortable but that he definitely didn’t have the appropriate sheets for, having a smaller bed at home. He would have to ask to borrow some, dreading it as he was. The room was bathed in blue. Partly from the sky outside and partly from the striped wallpaper.  
-What do you think, dear? Freddie put down the bags at the foot of the bed. John’s brain decided on this very moment to short-circuit and all he came up with was;  
-It’s… huge.  
-Well, yes, Freddie laughed, not unkindly. John’s brain caught up to him.  
-I mean it’s a lot bigger than my room at home. I like the view. Freddie nodded, looking as proud as if he’d made the cliffs outside himself.  
-I have to agree. I’ll show you the bathroom.

The bathroom, to match the rest of the room, was larger than an average living room. Other than that, it was like any other bathroom except the fact that the bathtub had lion feet.  
-That is… so over the top. What kind of hotel was this? John laughed.  
-No clue, but they must’ve had one hell of a budget, Freddie said with a small laugh. John noticed him covering his mouth with his hand but decided not to comment on it.  
-Do you need help with anything? Unpacking or such? Otherwise dinner’s in half an hour maybe. It’s on the first floor.  
-Oh actually, yes, I don’t have sheets big enough for that bed, are there some I can borrow? He said quickly.  
-I think I have some spare, yes. I’ll go get them for you. Is there anything else?   
-No I think I’m good, thanks. John smiled awkwardly to emphasise his gratitude.   
-Alright, I’ll see you soon.  
-Thanks again!  
-Don’t mention it, darling.  
Then the door shut and he was alone. John quickly unpacked his clothes, which didn’t take long as he didn’t own too much, and placed them in a wardrobe he found by the wall. Thankfully he had sealed both his bags and bass case with wax so they were dry as could be despite everything. He then took out his amp, carefully, as if it were a carton of eggs. It wasn’t all in one part yet so he had to make sure the wiring didn’t get messed with. When also his bass, records, posters, toiletries and other things were out he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. What a day it had been so far. It wasn’t all positive, but maybe it wasn’t that bad either. Freddie seemed genuinely nice and, hell, they might even become friends some day. John hadn’t known him for long, but he had a good feeling about him. A knock came at the door and Freddie entered.   
-I found some sheets, sorry it took so long, they were at the very back of my closet. True to his word, he was carrying a neat roll of white fabric.  
-I’ll help you make it if you like, he said, already moving the pillows out of the way.  
-That’d be great, thanks. The work was done in half the time it would have taken just one of them and soon they were left unoccupied.   
-Would you like a tour of the house? Freddie asked suddenly.  
-That’d be nice, yeah.  
-Lovely! Let’s go, then! he said and grabbed John’s hand, which John was not expecting, and lead him out of the room. A still very flustered John let himself be lead down the hallway but instead of going down to the right as they had before, they took to the left and up a narrow staircase to a room with a slanted ceiling and large windows at both ends, the hardwood floor adorned with a persian mat by one window.   
-And here is the quietest place in the whole house. It’s great if you ever want a moment to yourself, because almost everyone here thinks it’s a tad boring and usually avoids it.  
-You don’t, John pointed out.  
-I don’t, Freddie confirmed.  
-Me neither. They stood there for a few moments, just enjoying the sound of the rain hammering against the window, until John realized he was still holding Freddie’s hand, which was, though he refused to admit it, very nice to hold, and quickly let go, a heavy blush creeping up in his cheeks.   
-Right, I should show you downstairs, too, Freddie said, a little awkwardly, heading down the stairs.

Downstairs, they decided to first go to the kitchen. The kitchen looked, mostly, like a normal kitchen, except for its size. The strangest thing John could see was the gigantic pot on the stove. It could probably fit a person in it and had most likely come with the purchase of the hotel. By the pot were two boys, one shorter with smooth brown hair down to his shoulders, the other much taller and with hair the size of England, and mighty curly. They seemed to be having the staring contest of the century, and both looked quite angry. Finally, the shorter of the two seemed to be hit over the head with an invisible shovel; his eyes widened and he looked, if possible, even angrier.  
-No you bloody can’t! God Brian, the one thing you cannot put dill in, and you’re bloody gonna put dill in it? If this was master chef you’d be out by the first episode! That is an abomination! Gordon Ramsay would have your head for this! Freddie snickered into his hand, no doubt trying to conceal it, but the taller brunet, Brian, had heard it, and turned with a tired expression to the door post where Freddie had stuck out his head.  
-Hi Fred, he said, sounding as if all the world’s burdens were resting on his shoulders alone.  
-Hello dear. I heard you’re putting dill in the pasta again?  
-I heard I’m not, Brian sighed. The other man gave a sharp laugh.  
-Well I also heard the two of you should stop bickering, it’s bad for your health. Besides, There’s someone I’d like you to meet. John stepped out from his hiding place behind Freddie and the door.  
-Hello, he said, somewhat quietly. Brian’s eyebrows shot up under his hair. He gave Freddie a look. A moment passed.  
-Don’t ask me, ask Mary! he said defensively. Brian rolled his eyes and then turned to John.  
-Hello, I’m Brian, it’s lovely to have you here.   
-John. It’s nice to be here. As they shook hands, John noticed similar callouses to his own on Brian’s fingers.  
-Guitar?  
-Yeah. You too?  
-Bass. The other man, who had moved to stand next to Freddie, raised his eyebrows.  
-Another bassist, eh? I’m Tim by the way. I play bass. He reached his hand out to John, who shook it, feeling the result of years of strumming against his own palm.   
-Wonderful! Freddie exclaimed. John understood what he had meant with John fitting in; he felt Freddie had been right, and smiled at him gratefully.  
-You can all talk at dinner, but I should probably show you the rest of the house first.  
-Right. I’ll see you two later then?  
-Yeah, you will. Freddie and John turned to leave, but right as they reached the doorway, Freddie turned and said to Brian;  
-Just so we’re clear, Brimi dear, I side with Tim on the matter of dill. Tim wooped in triumph and Brian rolled his eyes as Freddie skipped past the stairs leading up, and a second set leading down, that John hadn’t noticed, and into another hallway, then left to an intricately painted door, where he stopped. Soft piano playing and even softer singing could be heard. It was tentative, careful, but soon increased in speed and spirits, though the song was still soft and a bit melancholy.  
-I think he got a new envelope a few days ago, Freddie whispered.  
-His friend at home sends him miles and miles of lyrics and he writes the melodies. John nodded. The song was lovely, and he wanted to mention that to Freddie, but before he could, the pianist abruptly stopped playing. Freddie took this as his cue and nudged the door open. The redhead at the piano looked up and upon seeing Freddie, finger gunned at him, Freddie doing the same. Then he saw John, and quickly stood up. He looked like there were at least fifty things he wanted to say, and that he could phrase none of them, but he eventually settled on;  
-You haven’t introduced us yet!  
-Well, he just got here, I didn’t have time! Besides, Mary didn’t tell me he’d even be coming. Anyway, John, this is Elton. Elton, John. Both Freddie and Elton burst into laughter at that. John noticed, again, how Freddie instinctively held his hand over his mouth. He also felt a small wave of sadness from Elton, when he, too, noticed the gesture. John must’ve looked confused because the two others started explaining at the same time.  
-Sorry it’s just his-  
-Well so my name- They looked at eachother, gesturing for the other to go first. Elton shrugged and took on the role.  
-So it’s… not actually that funny, but my name is Elton John and... the way he said it sounded like… yeah it’s not that funny.  
-It was a little funny…? John tried.  
-A bit, Freddie agreed.  
-Anyway, this is Elton, he writes sad songs, has an impressive collection of funky glasses- Freddie gestured to the, indeed very funky, enormous glasses resting on Elton’s nose -and he’s one of the few people who actually bothers to go with Miami into town once a month, just so he can buy things.  
-Such as?  
-More glasses, pretty things he doesn’t need, clothes, flowers for Reid- Freddie listed off on his fingers.  
-Hey, that was one time- Freddie raised his eyebrows in a challenge. Before either of them could say anything more, a bell rang out. John was curious as to who Reid was, but knew not to ask right now.  
-Oh it’s dinner! I didn’t even get to show you where we eat yet! Oh well, dear, nevermind, come along. John followed Freddie back the way they came, Elton in tow, though this time they turned right after the stairs instead of continuing to the kitchen. A few tables had been pushed together to form a long table with place for maybe ten, full of bowls of lettuce and things, and mismatched glasses. The table was placed in the middle of the room, which was attached to a rather large glass encased veranda overlooking the bay on the opposite side from where John had arrived. A blonde woman was sat by the table, a newspaper in her hands.  
-Oh there you are, she said, rising to her feet.  
-I’m Mary, the only one who knew you were coming tonight. I’m a psychic, by the way.  
-Yeah, about that, how come you didn’t even tell Freddie about John coming here? Elton piped up.  
-I didn’t like the other things that happened in the future where I told you, so I didn’t, she shrugged.  
-What happened? John inquired, curious as to what telling the others could change.  
-I’m not sure I should tell you, it might change the course of events from now.  
-Oh, please, darling! I’m dying to know!   
Mary sighed.  
-Fine, you wore that bloody jacket with the wing-detail-things to make an impression and we tried to get everyone together to cook which did… not go well. Freddie looked ready to defend his jacket but John went first.  
-What did you try to cook?  
-Lasagna. Disaster lasagna. John huffed a laugh through his nose. Tim, who had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, made a face at the small gathering at the table.  
-Where’s everyone else? Mary gestured at another door, and Tim stalked over to the door and pushed it open.  
-Dinner! he shouted into the other room. Mumbles of “coming” and bustling of feet and cushions could be heard and then someone sprinted on quick legs towards the door and came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, staring. It was a young boy, maybe eight, with tousled black hair and a very confused expression on his face. After him came a younger girl, who crashed right into him, knocking them both to the ground.  
-Hey! she said, fierceness in her voice.  
-Why’d you- she didn’t get further before her eyes caught on John. She immediately stood up, smoothing her corduroy skirt and trotting over to him.  
-I’m Olivia. Who are you? she said, reaching her small hand up. John shook it.  
-Hello Olivia. My name is John. I’ll be living here. She seemed to ponder that for a few moments and then she promptly asked;  
-What can you do? I mean, why are you here? John was caught off guard.  
-Uh I can sense things. Both physical objects and emotions. For one, i think you have two puzzle pieces and a bottle cap in your left pocket. Is that right? Olivia’s jaw dropped and she picked up the pieces and metal cap from her pocket, a soft “woah” escaping her. She nodded thoughtfully.  
-You won’t be any fun in hide and seek. John laughed.  
-True. Four more people had entered the room, one of them carrying a small child. He had piercing blue eyes and was looking at John with curiosity. The blond man looked at Mary who had returned her focus to the newspaper.  
-Did you know he was coming?  
-Yes, of course I did.  
-Did Miami know?  
-Yes, his arrival was planned. She kept her eyes steadily on the page in front of her.  
-Alright then. The man put down the toddler, who immediately wobbled over to the black haired boy, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. Then the blonde walked over to John to greet him.  
-M’ names Roger, and you are?  
-John, said John, who was really getting tired of saying his own name.   
-So now we have two Johns? Interesting. John guessed his namesake was the man in a white shirt, trying, and failing, to get the black haired boy on the floor to go talk to him. The boy looked scared out of his mind and kept shaking his head.  
-Alexander’s a bit shy, but he’ll come around, said Roger.  
-He doesn’t have to talk to me if he doesn’t want to, John said, knowing full well how terrifying it could be to talk to new people. The boy, Alexander, looked up at that and smiled, wide and with teeth. John smiled back and gave a nod. Alexander then promptly buried his face in the other John’s cotton shirt.  
-Incredible, Roger muttered.  
-What?  
-That worked! I think he almost trusts you. John’s stomach filled with warmth at the thought of earning the shy little boy’s trust.  
-Everyone here? Good. Let’s eat. Finally. It was Tim who spoke, leaned against the doorway. Freddie moved to stand beside John.  
-Where do you want to sit, darling?  
-Uh I’ll sit… here, if that’s alright? John pulled out a chair.  
-Of course, dear. Freddie pulled out the chair beside him and sat down as everyone else picked chairs fairly quickly, but quickest of them all was Alexander. John had barely sat down before the boy had sat in the chair to his right. John smiled to himself, hoping no-one saw how giddy the small gesture made him.  
-Alright folks! It was Brian. The table quieted.  
-We’ve got a new resident, as of today. And John, I hope you’ll feel welcome here.  
-Thanks, Brian, John said somewhat meekly.  
-Oh and another thing, I’d just like to thank Alice for going hunting for clams today. You did great, he smiled. A girl, looking to be about twelve and with a face full of freckles sitting at the end of the table, nodded proudly. Brian sat down and on cue everyone started talking and moving things about on the table. Bowls of grated cheese, lettuce and other vegetables were passed between the people at the table as Tim served pasta. John held the bowl of radishes for Alexander as he picked a few, and he nodded in thanks. Then they all tucked into dinner. The room was silent for maybe half a minute before Roger broke the silence.  
-So, John, we barely know anything about you, he paused to glare at Mary, who shrugged.  
-Would it be alright if we asked a few things to get to know you?  
-Uh, sure.  
-Alright I’ll go first, the fishing girl, Alice, said.  
-How old are you and when’s your birthday?  
-August nineteenth, I’m turning twenty.  
-Another bloody leo, she mumbled under her breath.  
-Hey! Don’t swear. And don’t be rude. Besides, his moon is in pisces. John was amazed at how Freddie had calculated that, and also very confused as to what in god’s name that was supposed to mean.  
-Hmm alright, fine. Sorry. John was at a loss for words and settled for pulling a face.  
-What’s your favourite food? Olivia said. John felt as if he should have seen this coming and prepared an answer.   
-Uh… cheese? Freddie looked amused.  
-Alright that’s… valid. He said. All through dinner this playful banter continued and John got to answer all sorts of questions, from his favourite Beatles album, to how long he had been playing bass, to a top ten list of his favourite reptiles, with arguments for each contribution to the list. Dinner past in a flourish and soon they were just sitting at the table chatting. John was still a bit uncomfortable, but not out of the ordinary. Brian pulled a face and Freddie, who had been picking at a chip in the table laquer whipped his head up to look at him.  
-No, he said sternly, putting his hand down for emphasis.  
-It’s barely nine o’clock, we aren’t going to bed quite yet.   
Brian looked bewildered.  
-I didn’t say anything…?  
-Well, darling, you thought it loud enough I could hear it.  
-Oh.  
-Sorry to ask, but, uh… Freddie can you read minds?  
-No dear, but Brian can read minds and send thoughts to other people. Sorry I didn’t explain that earlier.  
-Oh. Oh! That explains a lot. John laughed, looking down at the worn table in embarrassment over his assumption. They talked for maybe an hour more before the youngest bunch started getting sleepy. Brian noticed immediately.  
-I’ll take care of the dishes, Roger, you’re on teeth-brushing-duty, Fred- Freddie interrupted him by snickering quietly. John scrunched his eyebrows at him in question and Roger gave him a murderous glare. Freddie raised his chin defiantly.  
-As if that’s anything new there- he had barely finished the sentence before Roger had thrown himself on top of Freddie in a spontaneous wrestling match. This seemed to be exactly the reaction he was seeking, for he was laughing and fighting back with no real aggression.   
-I never was a dentist! Am not a dentist! And never will be!   
Freddie laughed, warm and full of mirth. They’re actual children, aren’t they? Brian’s voice spoke up but strangely… close. John realized he must have spoken in his mind. Having not a clue how to respond so Brian would hear it, he nodded and laughed.   
-Hey!   
The play fight on the floor stopped momentarily.  
-What did he tell you? John mimed zipping his lips shut, causing Freddie to roll his eyes in disappointment which was, to be fair, quite adorable in John’s opinion.  
-Anyway, as I was saying, Freddie, make sure John knows what time breakfast is, laundry days, and all that. Now hop off to bed, all of you. They bid their goodnights and then all went their not-so-separate ways. John and Freddie stopped outside their doors, watching the rain fall in endless streams outside in silence.  
-Well, breakfast is at eight, and if you need me, just barge in and scream or something, I’m quite the heavy sleeper in this- he caught himself, looking momentarily horrified.   
-I’ll keep that in mind, John said with a small laugh, knowing full well he wouldn’t use that information.  
-Goodnight, darling, sleep well.  
-Goodnight Freddie.  
They closed their doors and John got to getting ready for bed. While brushing his teeth he pondered the day he had had. It had been interesting, truly. First the ride to the island, and its sudden appearance. Dinner with its ups and downs and almost comfortable chatter, all the people whose names he would have to remember, but mostly he thought about Freddie, with his liquid brown eyes and wide smile, that John had caught more than a few times during dinner, and his sincere attempts to make John feel included and- he caught himself brushing the same teeth over and over and shook himself out of his thoughts. Get it together. He spit into the sink and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror for a bit before shrugging and turning off the light. He crawled into bed and looked out one of the windows. The storm was still raging outside and as there were no blinds John had no choice but to look out. He sighed and laid his head down. He caught a scent of lilies and cardamom, and found it quite strange until he remembered that was part of Freddie’s scent. It was comforting for some odd reason and John found himself calmed by it as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Cat you see that I just don't know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few chats and some minor revelations

John thought he would have a normal night, but of course, he didn’t. He had only slept an hour when he woke with a start, disoriented and confused. Pain was blooming in his chest, constricting his lungs. Each breath he took was agonizing, and he gasped with the effort of sitting up. When he had calmed himself somewhat, and all that was left was a dull ache, he recognized the suffering as coming not from him, but from a floor below. Waves strong as tsunamis of sadness and emptiness. Oh god this was bad. John hurriedly pulled on a sweater over his night clothes and rushed down the stairs, not bothering to close the door. Down the flight of stairs the emotion was even stronger, and John fought to get to where it was strongest, as if he was walking against a current. He stopped in front of the third door from the right. The air was pounding with sorrow. It was so thick John thought it had to be palpable even to someone without his ability, each new wave pushed him back a little further. John clenched his jaw and pushed himself towards the door. He knocked.  
-Come in, a weak voice said from the other side. John nudged the door open and pushed his way through. The sorrow was, if possible, even thicker here, and on the bed in the middle of the room, staring intently at the wall was-  
-Brian?  
Brian turned his head in John’s direction.  
-Oh, hello, he said dismally.  
John wanted to say something comforting like please don’t do something you might regret, or is there anything I can do to make you feel better? but all he said was:  
-How do you stand all this sorrow? Brian blinked in confusion.  
-I- what? How do you know?   
-I can feel it. Look, I’m- I’m… not good at… this. Do you want me to get someone?  
Brian nodded stiffly.  
-Can you get Freddie?  
-Uh, yeah, yeah.   
John bolted up the stairs and knocked frantically at the door opposite his own. No response. Right, John thought, heavy sleeper. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. Freddie’s room was the same size as his, but with only one window. One corner was stuffed with things in more or less orderly piles. Over the bed hung a Jimi Hendrix poster and the shelves were full of nicknacks. John went over to the bed, his heart hammering in his throat,feeling as though he was doing something illegal. Freddie was sleeping peacefully, rolled almost into a ball, like a cat. His black hair was fanned out around his face like a halo, and his lips were relaxed so that his top teeth rested on his bottom lip. John gazed at him in awe, admiring how soft his features appeared in sleep. John shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts; he was here on a mission.  
-Freddie, he tried. No response.  
-Hey, Freddie, wake up.  
Still nothing. John sighed through his nose. He would have to do this the old fashioned way. He put his hand on Freddie’s shoulder and shook him gently. Freddie just hummed and rolled over. John shook his shoulder with more force and finally, finally the other man woke with a confused hum. He blinked and then realized John was there.  
-Oh, hello, darling. What are you doing up?  
-Brian.. uh he… kind of needs your help.  
Freddie seemed to realize what the matter was immediately, his jaw set and brow furrowed. He quickly got up and rummaged around in a neat pile of clothing on the armrest on a loveseat, picking out a silk kimono and throwing it over his shoulders, effectively covering what just his pyjama trousers did not, which John thought was good, as he caught himself staring at Freddie's chest more than once, despite the gravity of the situation. A blush crept up in his cheeks. Freddie rubbed the last sleep from his eyes and put his hands on John’s shoulders.  
-Thank you for coming to get me, darling. Now go get some rest, yeah? He squeezed his shoulders and hurried, soundlessly, down the corridor, kimono billowing behind him. John’s face was burning, and his shoulders, where Freddie had held them, too, as if his mere touch could singe holes in John’s faded t-shirt. Then he went back into his own room and promptly fell asleep.

The next morning John woke in absolute confusion, everything around him was different to home. Rain was pattering on the windows. Then he remembered his whereabouts and with them, the memories of the previous night. His immediate thought was to go downstairs and check how things had turned out, but a glance at the clock told him it was only half past six, so he decided to just get ready for the day. 

Thank god his socks made his steps more quiet, because the creaking of the staircase alone could have woken the dead, at least in the quietude that otherwise surrounded the house. Cringing at every step, John made his way down to the room they had dined in last evening. The first thing he spotted was that there was a tiled stove he hadn’t taken note of the day before, the second, the figure crouching before it.   
-Good morning.   
It came out a croak with his unused voice. Freddie looked up from where he was feeding the fire.  
-Good morning, darling! Slept well?  
-Yeah, I suppose. How’s Brian?   
-He’s better, but I don’t think he’ll be joining us for breakfast. How did you know he was feeling… bad?  
-Oh! Uh, I felt it,  
-Felt it? Oh, right! Sorry. What does it… feel like?  
-It’s like… waves. You know, when you’re little, and the waves knock you under the water. Like that, except you can breathe. And I absorb a bit of the sorrow too. Well, a lot of it.  
-That sounds terrifying.  
-It is, yeah.  
-Oh you poor dear.   
A pause.  
-How do other emotions feel?  
-Uh, they mostly feel like water, happiness feels like wind, but I don’t think I’ve gotten to sense all there is.  
Freddie nodded thoughtfully.  
-What can you sense right now?  
John concentrated. Coming from all around the house was a sense of calm, gentle sleepiness, like an evening breeze. There were also thin wisps of warm affection and a stirring of guilt. Freddie nodded thoughtfully after John finished describing it. He opened his mouth to say something when a pattering of steps came down from the floor above and Olivia made her presence known with a polite knock on the doorframe, and then draping herself across Freddie’s lap.   
-I’m hungry. Make something, please?  
-No, we’ll wait for the others. We can have tea though. John do you want tea?  
-Yes please, I’ll have a cup.  
-Off then! Freddie shoved Olivia off of his lap and smoothed his kimono, leading the way to the kitchen, John and Olivia in tow. Freddie filled the kettle with water, humming softly. John didn’t recognise the tune, but it was pleasant, if a little sad.  
-What song is that? It’s good.  
Freddie looked up from the gas stove, a look of pleasant surprise and sudden shyness on his face.  
-Oh it’s just a thing I wrote.You like it?  
-Absolutely! Does it have lyrics?  
-Yes.  
-Will you sing it to me?  
John realized that was a stupid thing to say, and his face grew warm and he stared intently at the kettle to avoid eye contact.  
-I mean if you want to, he hastily added in a jumbled murmur.   
-Of course, if you want to.  
John nodded enthusiastically and leaned against the counter. Freddie cleared his throat.  
-There’s no living in my life anymore-  
From the first line, John’s whole attention was caught and it seemed as though the whole room melted away into a black abyss with only Freddie, his powerful voice and the waves of comfort radiating from him left. John’s throat closed up with awe and by the time Freddie finished, all he could get out was;  
-Thanks.  
-You’re very welcome, darling. John gathered his thoughts and tried again.  
-It- You’re- That was beautiful.   
Freddie’s smile widened, though his lips remained pressed firmly together.  
-Thank you darling!  
The kettle piped and Freddie poured the boiling water into three mismatched cups. John glanced at the clock on the wall, which read five minutes to eight.  
-Freddie?  
-Hm?  
-Didn’t you say breakfast was at eight?  
-Yes I- oh those bastards are late again, aren’t they? I’ll go wake them. He sighed and rolled his eyes fondly and skipped up the stairs without the floorboards making as much as a squeek. John was now left with Olivia. He took an awkward sip of his tea, and almost spit it back out, but refrained, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. Olivia turned her sharp green eyes on him.  
-You fancy him, don’t you? Had there still been tea in his mouth, John would have sputtered enough to get it to the mainland, but as it was he just narrowly avoided dropping his cup on the tiled kitchen floor. He fumbled with the cup and made an indignant noise in his throat, his eyes going wide and face red.  
-I uh- what?  
-You fancy Freddie, Olivia repeated.  
-I don’t, I don’t… know? I can’t know that yet.   
Olivia looked at him with pity.  
-Alright then.  
Then footsteps were heard and John busied himself with carrying their cups to the table. Everyone else, dressed in robes and nightclothes greeted him and Olivia, then got to work with bringing plates and food to the table, frying eggs and bacon. John stood in the middle of it all, looking around for something to do. Freddie, of course, noticed, and walked over to him with a stack of plates and a bundle of knives.  
-Will you take this to the table?  
-Of course! John said a little too quickly. Reaching over to take the plates, John’s hand brushed Freddie’s, and his breath caught in his throat. Could Olivia have been right? God, so soon? His thoughts whirled in his head. 

If dinner had been confusing, it was a piece of cake compared to breakfast. Or maybe John was simply too distracted to understand the conversations happening around him. All he could think about was what Olivia had said before. Could he really be liking someone like that after knowing them for less than twenty four hours? Half of him was saying that no, of course not, that was ridiculous, but another, very convincing part of him noticed all the little things Freddie was doing. The way he looked around the table to make sure no-one felt left out of conversation, though not participating himself. The way he kept twisting the cutlery between his slender fingers, how he held his hand over his mouth when he laughed, how daintily he held his teacup-  
-John?  
John startled.  
-Uh, yeah?  
Freddie looked amused.  
-I was asking if you wanted some toast.  
-Oh! Thanks, I’ll have some, yes.

Once the meal was finished and the dishes stowed away, John decided he needed a bit of fresh air. Putting on his rainboots and a thick jumper he walked out on the porch, if one could call it that, and sat down. The gentle smattering of rain made him feel calmer than he had inside. There were almost no waves on the water, and the clouds were a very light grey.Breathing evenly and feeling incredibly at ease he surveyed the sea below. That’s when he noticed the cat. It was smaller than average and pitch black. And sitting right in front of the house. John raised his eyebrows at it and patted the steps beside him. Surprisingly, the cat came trotting over to him and sat down.  
-Hello.  
The cat meowed and pressed its head against John’s arm. He patted its head, scratching a bit behind its ears, and it purred.  
-You know, I came out here to get some time alone, but I prefer your company. John laughed.  
-My sister would laugh at me for talking to a cat, but it’s nice you know? To have someone who doesn’t offer advice that makes perfect sense but that you don’t want. He laughed a little again, giving the cat, that had now climbed up on his lap, a scratch under its chin.  
-You aren’t judging this, are you? The cat made a mrow sound. John hummed.  
-You know, one thing that happened this morning… It was really weird. So there’s this girl, Olivia, she said, when Freddie- he’s a bloke here, when Freddie had left the room she said “you fancy him, don’t you?” and I was so taken aback. You see, I’ve been here less than a day, and I don’t think- Do you think it’s possible to fall for someone that quickly? But like, if it is, I think I might have, actually. You see, he’s so nice to me, and I like being around him, and I usually like being alone, but I prefer his company to being alone, you know? Oh sorry I’m rambling.  
The cat had nestled itself into a ball on his lap, purring, its large brown eyes halfway closed.  
-Oh, what am I going to do? Maybe it’s easier being a cat, yeah? Or is it? You’ll have to tell me if you ever… magically become human, you’ll have to tell me if cats love like humans.  
John stopped himself, staring out into the rain.  
-What.  
He shook his head and looked back at the cat.  
-I honestly don’t know what I’m saying either.  
Just then the door opened and Roger poked his head out.  
-John! Been looking for you, thought I’d show you how the washing machine works, if you’re up for it.  
He gave a toothy smile.  
-Boring, I know.  
-No that sounds good, actually.  
The cat looked up at Roger and quickly bolted around the side of the house. Roger squinted after it. John stood up, and followed Roger inside.

In the entrance hall they took the set of stairs that lead down, next to the ones that lead to their rooms. The cellar was at least five degrees colder than the rest of the house and quite a bit darker. Roger switched a lightswitch on the wall by the foot of the stairs and led John down a narrow hallway with doors on either side, gesturing to the different doors as they went.  
-This is where we keep most of the cleaning supplies, though there are some on the floors above, too. And here’s an indoor pool. I don’t think there’s chlorine in it, so I suspect Miami keeps it clean with magic or something, but I haven’t asked. John hummed and hoped Roger would take that for an answer. He had been told quite a few things about Miami, who he suspected was the same man his mother had referred to as Mr Beach, though he hadn’t met him in person, and was a good bit curious.  
-Where is… Miami?  
-Oh, I dunno, on business or something. He’ll be back soon, I think.  
They arrived at a rough wooden door labeled “washroom” and Roger nudged the door open. The room was illuminated by a square window above a long shelf with detergent and clothespins and whatnot, which was hung above a row of three washing machines and the same number of dryers. In the opposite side of the room, in an alcove far too wide to be called an alcove, washed clothing and sheets hung to dry. By the walls stood a few baskets, some with laundry in them. Roger immediately got to work with showing John how the machines worked.  
-That one in the corner is super sketchy, a right twat if you ask me, works sometimes but just in case, don’t use that one.  
John nodded.  
-Could I have a look at it? I can’t promise anything, but I might be able to fix… something.   
-That’d be great!   
Roger hopped up onto one of the washing machines, looking a little more serious.  
-How do you like it here so far?  
John leaned against one of the machines, grimacing.  
-How honest do you want me to be?  
-Well, as honest as possible would be good. Roger laughed a little.  
-I feel a bit… out of place. You all seem so comfortable and you… fit it. You, Brian, Tim and Freddie all seem to just… work, like a puzzle.  
Roger nodded, seeming to understand.  
-You know… I think it’s alright if I tell you this, otherwise I’ll die later, but we’ll see- anyway when Freddie came here, I don’t think he felt like he fitted in either. He came here in the middle of winter, it was freezing cold and snowing like mad, and he showed up on our doorstep in a thin cotton jacket and heeled boots. Heeled! He walked up the whole bloody mountain in heels, stubborn man.  
He shook his head with a fond smile.  
-And he was so shy at first. Brian, who answered the door, could barely hear him, he was speaking so softly. For two weeks he barely spoke up, he was so very kind and polite once he did, but he never took the initiative. Anyway, one day me and Tim were playing scrabble, and he glanced at the list of points, then the board, then my letters. He sat down for a minute before he leaned close to my ear and whispered “legato”, then cocked his head towards the board and smirked. Turns out, he’d seen I was loosing and decided to help me. Can you guess how many points that “legato” got me?  
-No?  
-Eighty-three! And since that day we became friends, I suppose.   
He paused.  
-Alright that was far more than you asked for, but moral of the story is- I’ll have to make that up, hang on-  
Roger tapped his chin a few times.  
-Moral of the story is, I think you’ll fit it, even if it doesn’t feel like it now, just give it some time. I mean, I already like you, so I think it’ll be fine.  
He shot John a toothy grin, which he answered with a shy one.  
-Well! Let’s get up to the others. If I’m not wrong I’m on lunch duty today, would be a shame if I missed that, he muttered with an eye-roll.  
-You need some tools for-? He gestured to the washing machine.  
-No thanks, I’m good, I brought my own. But thanks.  
-Great!  
And so they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *making characters talk to random cats because the "show" in "show don't tell" doesn't exclude making your characters say what they're feeling h a h*


	3. Play the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They play cards. That’s it. That’s the chapter.

Fixing the broken machine was quite easy, once he got his tools, but good god was it boring. Then, as if his prayers had been answered, but a little late, Tim entered the room, laundry basket on his hip.   
-Oh, hey John!  
John tried to get his entire upper body out of the washing machine, miscalculating spectacularly and banging his head on the edge.  
-Hi! Fucking ouch, he muttered.  
-Oh! You’re fixing that bloody machine! Finally someone who knows how to do that, he laughed a little, crouching down to load the washing machine next to the one John was fixing.  
-How come you know how to do that, by the way?  
-Oh, I studied electrical engineering before I had to leave.  
Tim hummed in answer and John fastned the last wire, slamming the lid shut. He tapped his fingers on the cool metal.  
-Have you got something we can try to wash?  
-Uh yeah I think I’ve got some white laundry upstairs, I’ll try that. Thanks again for fixing the machine!  
John gave a nod and Tim left again, leaving the room in silence except for the humming of the washing machine. Just then that same black cat from before jumped down from the window at John’s back, causing him to jump.  
-Oh it’s just you, he exhaled, hand to his chest.  
The cat meowed and leapt out the open door. And so John shrugged and packed up his toolbag.

The living room, as it was, was quite a large room. The walls that did not have windows were mostly covered in bookshelves with, well, books. and other curious things; a single rose, floating ominously above the shelf, a taxidermy coyote and a folder titled “Drawings”, which he could sense held thin printer paper scribbled on all over. The walls themselves were covered in green wallpaper, softly illuminated by what little daylight there was, with the rain hammering on the windows. John sat down in a wooden chair at the table by the wall, surveying the room. In the corner was a door that he assumed lead to the room with the piano he had seen the day before. By the windows, in and in front of the blue sofa, sat almost all of the house’s inhabitants, excluding Brian, Roger, Freddie and Elton, chatting, reading and playing chess together. It only made him feel lonelier where he sat alone. He barely noticed when Alice, the redhead who’d called him out for his zodiac sign at dinner, plopped down opposite him. No greeting, just;  
-Wanna play cards?  
-Oh, sure.  
Olivia, who was sat on the floor, braiding a slightly uncomfortable Alexander’s hair, perked up at that, and untangled herself to come sit with them, having to prop herself up with a pillow at the high table. Alice started explaining the rules as she flicked the cards out to each of them. She paused to give John a slightly suspicious glance.  
-You’re not going to-  
-I can only sense form, not patterns, he said quickly. She nodded her approval. Olivia slapped her arm.  
-Oh come on don’t be so fucking sus all the time!  
-Olivia! Tim called from the other side of the room.  
-You’re right, but don’t swear! I honestly can’t imagine who taught you that shit. Oh! You’re playing cards?  
He lifted himself of the sofa and walked over to them, sitting down.  
-I’m in.  
And so they played. Curses were uttered, cards were slammed with unnecessary force, gasps were dramatic, and laughter was shared. Each round another two people joined the game and soon also Freddie had entered the room, hair a little wet and left hand held rigid for fear of getting black nail polish on anything. Seeing there were no more chairs, he decided to share with John, somehow taking only a third of the chair, but nonetheless pressing all of his side against John’s, causing him to audibly gasp. Olivia gave him a told you so-raise of the eyebrows and the game went on.

And so it came to be that John and Freddie sat squished on a single chair, Mary draped over them, nothing in hand, having cheated quite a bit with her ability, and won a few minutes ago. John put down a solid stack of cards, a queen at the top, effectively emptying his hands. Freddie sucked in air between his teeth, glancing back and forth between his cards and the ones on the table. John grabbed the stack and flipped it over to the side.  
-Sorry, just being a prick, there were four of them.  
A sigh of relief.  
-Though-  
He picked a king from the cards in front of him on the table and put it down where the queens had just been.  
-Oh son of a-  
-Fred!  
-Sorry.  
He picked up the card and the game continued. Olivia, Alice, Tim and the other John all put down a good three cards each. Alexander was next in turn, flipping the single card on the table in front of him and placing it on the pile. Ace.  
-What rules are we playing with? he asked quietly, turning to Olivia.  
-Roger’s rules, she and Alice said in unison. Alexander rolled his eyes and swept all the cards into his hand.

Lunch was a hasty matter, everyone eager to get back to playing cards, with Tim almost falling up the stairs in his haste to deliver a plate to Brian, but when both food and dishes were finished, Roger had an idea.  
-What if we play scrabble?  
-There’s like ten of us, won’t work, the other John, Reid, interjected. Freddie and Roger seemed to have the same thought at the same time, for they said in unison;  
-We have two boards.  
Both Johns nodded.  
-Death scrabble.  
-Death scrabble!  
The rest of the afternoon was spent switching between strange combinations and variations of the games they had; uno with three decks, chess with two boards pushed together, chess with teams, card games made up on the spot, uno-chess, where you had to win a game of uno to play, and, of course, the terrible “death scrabble”, with double the pieces and boards. At seven o’clock it hit them. First to notice was Elton.  
-Has anyone bothered to make dinner?  
-No? Oh god we haven’t made anything! Roger laughed. They were all complaining and laughing at their own misery when Freddie suddenly quieted, looking out towards the open door. John tried to feel what he had noticed, and then he did; there was someone in the entryway. They both looked at each other and shrugged, walking out together. John was incredibly tense. How had someone gotten out here, to this island, in this weather? And why? His questions were answered when Freddie made a high pitched sound and nearly threw himself at their visitor.  
-Miami! Darling, I didn’t think you’d get here until tomorrow! How come you’re here so early?  
-Oh, you know- their conversation went on and John slowly backed out towards the lobby. Then the other man’s eyes caught on him, and he smiled.  
-And you must be John.  
-And you’re Jim Beach?  
-Yes, though you can call me Miami if you like, Freddie came up with it because-  
-Miami beach, they said in unison. John and Miami exchanged some pleasantries before Freddie very politely mentioned.  
-Miami darling, we may have forgotten to cook, can you… maybe do that, please?  
Miami rolled his eyes fondly.  
-Of course. Get the stuff, will you? I’ll do it at the table.  
Freddie nodded, then turned to John.  
-Want to come with?  
-Sure.  
John followed Freddie down the hallway they had taken when he first met Elton, but they continued past that door and then turned left. They entered what at first glance looked like a regular office, with a desk, a swivel chair and stacks of paper. But then Freddie turned on the light and John could see that the walls were covered from floor to ceiling in small drawers, maybe ten by ten centimeters, bearing yellowed labels. a few of them were open, revealing bottles, herbs and ground rocks.  
-I’m just curious, what exactly is Miami’s ability? Because from what I’ve been told, he can do an awful lot of things.  
-Oh, well, it’s hard to narrow down, really. He can do almost anything, but he needs tools like herbs and circles.  
-Oh he’s a mage! I thought they were just made up.  
Freddie hummed in answer, grabbing a suitcase on the desk, careful to not disrupt the papers or the stack of folders laying beside it. Before John could stop himself he read over the labels on the folders, quickly spotting his own name. He gestured to it for Freddie to see.  
-What’s in these?  
-I’m not sure, but I should think it’s everything Miami knows about you. Birthdate and ability and such. Curious?  
-A bit.  
-I think you can check it. And if not, blame it on me.  
-I wouldn’t.  
-What?  
-Blame it on you. Though I would absolutely check my folder, let’s see, he said flipping it open.  
There were all the things he had expected, along with a photo of him. He paused, scrunching up his nose.  
-What is it? Freddie said.  
-My mum’s snitched on me, he didn’t need to know all my weaknesses.   
Freddie gestured for John to go on.  
-Nobody needs to know I’m allergic to chili, he muttered.  
Freddie smiled at him, pure fondness wafting through the room like a summer breeze.  
-Don’t worry, darling, I won’t tell anyone your scandalous secret.

In the dining room Miami had made some sort of set up, moving everything but the table to the very edges of the room. Freddie set the briefcase down on the table and Miami gave a nod of thanks. Freddie took John by the hand and led him to the doorway where the rest were huddled.  
-And now the show begins, he whispered when they had sat down. Miami began by drawing a circle on the middle of the table with chalk, then some sort of symbol in the middle. He held his hand over the symbol, then the world seem to ripple, like water in a shaken glass. All went still again. John held his breath. A blinding light shot from the middle of the circle and when the light cleared it was… gone. In its place stood instead a pile of pizza boxes. First the room was quiet, then everyone erupted in cheers and applause.  
-I’ll go see if Brian wants to eat, Freddie said, standing up. The rest of them got to work with making the table. John felt the tension and dull sadness before he felt Brian’s presence at the door. He went over to him and Freddie, knowing he had to say something, but not sure quite what.  
-I’m glad you’re here.  
Brian just nodded with what was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace, sitting down at the table. Everyone else sat down as well and they got to eating and talking again. John noticed Freddie kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, like he wanted to say something. He didn’t mention it.

After dinner it was too late for more games, so they decided to head to bed. Freddie stopped at the end of the hallway above the stairs, nervously fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt.  
-John there’s… something I want to talk with you about.  
-Alright, said John, his pulse deciding that it definitely wasn’t alright. Freddie led him to the attic room he had shown him the previous evening. The rain had picked up speed again and was tapping at the window.  
-You might want to sit down, darling, because I’m going to tell you something massively stupid.  
John nodded and followed. Freddie sat down on the mat, legs crossed. John sat down next to him, the nervous energy lapping at his consciousness.   
-So, Freddie began. He looked anywhere but at John, twisting his necklace between his fingers.  
-I’ve done something really stupid and I really hope you can forgive me. I really hope this doesn’t… jeopardize our... friendship. Oh, please don’t hate me, darling.  
-I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, I couldn’t hate you if I tried, Freddie.  
The other boy looked up at him through his lashes, cheeks tinted pink.  
-Really?  
-Really. Now tell me what you did.  
Freddie looked anxious again.  
-You know that cat you talked to before?  
-Yes I- how did you know?  
Freddie sighed.  
-I’m a shifter, he almost whispered. It took some time for the words to sink in, then John fully understood. All the things he had said came back to him. He pressed his hand to his mouth, his throat closed over with regret and panic.  
-Oh god, he forced out.  
-Freddie, I’m so, so sorry, I’ll… try to get over it I swear, I’m so sorry, please, I’ll try, I’m so sorry-  
Freddie put his hand over John’s.  
-Please stop, he said gently.  
-You haven’t done anything bad, I have, please don’t apologize. And… what you told me… it’s not a bad thing.  
-But it is!   
Freddie shook his head with a smile.  
-For someone who can sense emotions, you are awfully bad at taking a hint, dear.   
He waited for John to catch on. The gears in his head were turning in ultrarapid, but were not producing any coherent thoughts. Freddie took his hands in his.  
-John. What can you sense right now?  
-Um… guilt, a little exasperation- then he felt it. He’d been too focused on the details he hadn’t noticed what was running through the entire room, like a river, strong, warm and oddly comforting, crashing into him over and over, neverending. Love. His eyes widened and it felt as if his heart stopped.  
-You- truly?  
-Well, yes, Freddie laughed awkwardly. Then John surprised even himself by throwing his entire body on top of Freddie, who got his thinking capacity back rather quickly, hugging John so tightly, it felt as if he would never be able to pry his arms away, and he never wanted to either.

-So how come you studied electrical engineering?  
-It seemed practical, and I like tinkering with things, too. Thought I’d get to work with it, though that got sort of foiled by my ability starting to show itself.  
Freddie made a face of sympathy, pushing a stray lock of hair behind John’s ear, hand lingering on his cheek. When they had landed on the floor, it had been too comfortable to get up, so they had simply stayed there a while. “A while” now going on well over an hour.  
-So late? In college?  
-Yeah, it’s why I suck arse at sensing things. Sorry for taking so long to feel that… I still can’t properly fathom that someone as spectacular as you likes me.  
-Oh, darling! You’re the spectacular one here! Freddie was blushing profusely, smiling wide, though his hand quickly came up to cover his mouth. John intertwined their fingers and brought it back down.  
-Why do you do that?  
-My teeth are a bit- he gestured vaguely. John frowned.  
-I love your smile. It’s… the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Freddie smiled softly at that, making John’s knees weak.  
-You really think so?  
-Yeah, he said breathlessly.  
Freddie smiled then, a little cautiously, not trying to conceal it, and John actually swooned, then realized his eyes had been fixed on Freddie for over a minute, and cleared his throat a little awkwardly.  
-So… when did your powers start to show?  
-Oh, I think I was maybe six or so. My mum found me in the living room just… turning back and forth and she looked as if she was about to faint, I can still remember it, I thought it was pretty funny. Then she gave me a twenty minute talk about why I shouldn’t tell anyone, what could happen if I did, you know the one.  
-I do.  
-Then when we moved to England I told one of my best mates when we got rather… well, piss drunk together and he tried to… well you don’t need to know the details but he… he pulled a knife on me and… I’ve never been so scared in my life.  
John wrapped his arms around Freddie tighter, which was challenging as they, first of all, were still on the floor, and second, were pressed so tightly together already, it would have been hard to get even a strand of spaghetti between them.  
-I’m so sorry.  
-It’s alright, darling.  
-It’s… not.  
Freddie hummed against John’s hair. They laid in silence for a minute or so, then John yawned, making Freddie laugh a little.  
-Tired?  
-Mm.  
-Maybe we should go to bed them?  
John made a sound of displeasure but untangled himself, helping Freddie up as well.  
-Alright, let’s go then, John said, swinging their joined hands towards the stairs. All the way down they didn’t let go. At their doors again, they paused.  
-It’s-, John began, not sure how to explain just how absolutely elated he was with words. He tried again.  
-I’m so, so happy you dared to tell me how you… felt and- He shook his head to rid himself of the brain fog, smiling a little awkwardly.  
-I’m just so happy.  
-Me too, darling, though to be fair, you did confess first.  
John blushed furiously.  
-Yeah, s’pose I did. Though I should say it to you, not… about you to… also you. I really do fancy you quite a lot, Freddie.  
-I like you too, dear. Goodnight, sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.  
-Goodnight!  
Then Freddie leaned forward and pecked John’s cheek. It was the lightest kiss, but it felt as if the world swam with love, happiness and possibilities. He barely noticed the door closing, or Freddie leaving for that matter before he noticed his presence was no longer there. He turned around and went into his own room. A melody was forming in the back of his mind. A happy, jolly melody of love and friendship. It was going to be good, he thought, all through getting ready. It was going to be a melody to hum while walking around the island hand in hand, he thought as he drifted off, comforted in the scent of what maybe one day, he would call home.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for not posting very often!! my plate has been quite full recently, and i haven't found the time to write ver much but i hope y'all like this anyway!! not exactly slow burn, but hey i never promised that :-) ly


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